


Feel Good Inc.

by TheResurrectionist



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol does not solve problems, Drunk!Bruce, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Orphans, billionaire bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:25:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: Once a year, the Billionaire Orphans Club convenes for an evening of drinking and conversation. The criteria for membership is as follows:i. One or more parent(s) deceased, preferably at the same timeii. Copious amounts of moneyiii. Depression/Anxiety (optional, but recommended)IV. Your name cannot be ‘Lex Luthor’





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [好心情股份有限公司](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281391) by [Jr_Antipasto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jr_Antipasto/pseuds/Jr_Antipasto)



> I really was captivated by the idea that there are like, sixteen orphaned billionaires running around in the DCU and Marvel, so I wrote this. I hope you enjoy!

**2008**

"This is an impressive penthouse, Wayne, I'm not going to lie."

Bruce looked at Tony and shook his head, screwing the cap back onto the whiskey bottle. He was across the room at the wet bar, but his exasperation was poignant. "For a man who can literally fly, you're looking pretty nervous,"

It's him who looks worried, but Tony doesn't mention that. Since returning, there had been a strange quality to Bruce's silences. Like he was watching everything and everyone, cataloguing every move. All the while, a hesitancy to his words.

If Tony had spent seven years bumming around Bhutan, then three on the streets of Gotham to boot, he would probably act really fucking weird too.

"What can I say," Stark said, backing away from the window he'd been staring out of. "Heights make me...mildly nervous. _Mildly._ Like dolphins-they seem like friendly aquatic animals, and then you find out they fuck baby dolphins and never look at them the same. I watched a documentary."

The other man snorted, bringing a pair of snifters to the table. Gotham's skyline stretched out in front of them, courtesy of the Hotel Gotham's Penthouse. "I believe you're thinking of porpoises. Drink?"

"L'Chaim," Tony said, grabbing for the glass immediately. Bruce toasted him briefly, and they both drank. "Ah. That hit the spot."

Bruce was looking out the window now too, a pensive expression on his face. Tony frowned, waving a hand. "Earth to Bruce."

"Let's build something," the taller man said suddenly, turning to Tony. His eyes were bright blue, almost feverish. "For old times' sake."

Tony sees the light in his eyes, that desperate mantra of _don't mention it, don't mention it,_ and smiles. If Bruce wants to spend the anniversary of his parents' deaths covered in motor oil, far be it from him to stop the man.

"How about another Batmobile?" He asks, getting another snort. "No really, hear me out, you could use a compact one-"

"No."

"Don't walk away from me, Wayne-"

* * *

**2009**

That day, _that_ day, Bruce finds him in his workshop, slumped against one of the walls with a wrench in one hand and a bottle in the other. He doesn't ask any questions, sliding down next to him. With a deft hand, he grabs the bottle and swigs.

"What are you doing here?"

Wayne swallows what must be a truly awful mouthful of whiskey and winces. He looms above Tony. "Why do you think?"

Of course Wayne knows what day it is, just like Tony knows not to call Wayne on January 13th unless he has a serious death wish. The fact that Wayne is here now demands serious balls. Or a martyr complex.

"It's my birthday and you're hiding not three, but four naked strippers behind that door?" Tony asks hopefully. He reconsiders after a moment. "Wait. Already naked strippers kinda defeats the point, doesn't it?"

Bruce wisely doesn't answer this, handing him the bottle back. The only source of light in the entire room is his arc reactor, glowing dully through cheap cotton. His eyes look dull in the shuttered light. "If I let you ride in the batmobile, would you finally leave this room?"

Tony nearly falls over in his haste to get up. "I wanna _drive_."

"You're drunk." Bruce says, and he's kinda right. Tony leans against the wall, feeling mildly dizzy. He gives Wayne his best puppy dog eyes. "What I'm trying to-alright. Fine, but not today."

Tony shouts and then promptly falls across Wayne's lap, getting an exasperated huff as he rams into pure solid muscle. " _Fuck_."

"Why don't we go drink somewhere less... _busy,_ " Wayne suggests, looking at his three piece suit in dismay as Tony's grease-stained wifebeater smears across it. "We can take shots and pretend we're in college again."

"I can't believe Bruce "no fun" Wayne just asked to take shots," Tony grins, stumbling to his feet. "JARVIS, make a audio file of that and send it to Alfred, would you? What's next, smoking weed out of an empty beer can?"

Bruce glares, but something about his expression tells Tony he'll let it slide for today. "No tequila."

"I'm sorry, did you just say " _lots of tequila_ "? Because that's what I heard. JARVIS?"

JARVIS hesitates, which is never a good sign. "...His exact words, sir."

Wayne narrows his eyes, but accepts the hand up. "Promise me we won't end up on the news this time."

"You're no fun!" Tony says, and he's trying so hard, but for a second, he doesn't have to pretend, holding onto Bruce's hand. "C'mon. I have shot glasses shaped like cacti."

"...of course you do."

* * *

**2010**

"You're serious."

Bruce raises an eyebrow, which he somehow manages to make look _good_ with a cowl and lenses on. "Have you ever seen me make a joke?"

Oliver Queen looked down at the invitation in his hand. He was still in disbelief. Thank God this wing of the Watchtower was empty, or most of the Justice League would've seen this. Batman asking _Green Arrow_ to hang out?

Maybe he was hallucinating, and that's why there weren't any other members nearby. "...no."

"For the record, this was Tony's idea, _not_ mine," Bruce says, scowling at him. "He _likes_ you for some reason."

Oliver pauses to take this in, still nodding. "I...uh. Thanks?"

"Great. Drinks are at seven. Don't be late." With a flap of his cape, Batman was gone, stalking down the hallway to terrify the next unfortunate newbie. Ollie stares after him, then shakes himself out of his funk.

_The Billionaire Orphans Club meets at seven pm sharp on Tuesday, November 2nd,_ the paper read in elegant script. _Alcohol is encouraged. No guests._

The invitation was unsigned, but the date is marked clearly. Ollie pinched himself, then stuffed it into his cape's pouch. He thinks about his parents' graves and pain flickers through him, taking him by surprise. Maybe company wouldn't be amiss after all.

* * *

He walks into the main room fashionably late, two bottles in each hand. Wayne and Stark were slumped across a couch, obviously having gotten started without him. Stark looked thoroughly debauched, shirt unbuttoned, his arm flung across the loveseat. Wayne was down his coat and his tie, his hair mussed slightly.

"Am I interrupting something?" He asked, smirking. He set the bottles down on the table, getting a glare from Wayne. "You two look awful... _cozy_."

"Forgive us if we started early," Stark snickered, kicking at Wayne with his socked feet, "But you're two hours late, dear."

"Yeah?" Oliver asked, swinging himself into the only empty couch. Stark's Malibu place was alright, that was for sure. Nice deck outside, and a saltwater pool big enough to make even him a little jealous. "Had a lot on my mind."

"Join the club," Wayne quipped, earning a snort from Tony. Oliver rolled his eyes, grabbing an already-open bottle.

"Isn't that kinda the point?"

* * *

**2011**

"Let's pre-game in public this time," Tony says as a way of greeting when Bruce picks up the phone.

Bruce's silence is telling. It's also three in the morning, but that's never stopped their late night/early morning conversations before.

"Don't pipe up all at once," Tony continues, still buzzing from his fourth cup of coffee. "So. The Palace at six with Ollie?"

"You want to do this in public." Bruce finally says, deadpan. "Tony."

"No, I want to _start_ in public this time. Make some waves," Tony would be twirling his phone cord by now if it wasn't a cellphone, "Possibly also conveniently avoid Lexy's dinner invitation that I _oh_ so helpfully turned down because I said I would be with _you-_ "

"Lex Luthor asked you to dinner."

"Mhmm," Tony says, defeated by the Bat-voice instantly. Maybe Bruce's voice was stuck like that permanently during the night. It made sense. "Weapon contracts."

"I thought you were done with those."

He sighed, the first hints of discomfort entering his voice. "What do you think I told him?"

Bruce was quiet again, mulling it over. "Palace at six. _No_ dates."

"Great! I'll call Ollie."

" _No_ dates."

Tony scoffs. "I heard you the first time, Mom."

* * *

The media somehow catches wind of their little boys' club meetup before it happens, which is undeniably Tony's fault, though Oliver could have leaked it if he knew it would drive Bruce absolutely batshit insane. Nonetheless, he weathers the cameras and shouted questions as he enters the club with a brilliant smile, waving at the reporters.

"Mr. Wayne, can you comment on any allegations of a partnership between yourself, Mr. Stark, and Mr. Queen?"

"Mr. Wayne, who are you bringing with-"

He waves them off at the door, relieved to see more than a few burly-looking bouncers standing by. "Got a hot date. Sorry!"

The smile drops from his face as he's shown to the VIP balcony above the crowd. Oliver and Tony are already waiting for him, trading grins.

"Run into some bad guys on your way in?"

"Not here," Bruce hisses at Oliver, who smirks around the rim of a martini glass, mindless about his slip. "You know better."

"Who's gonna overhear, huh?" Tony asks, throwing his arms wide. He kicks back on the black-leather couch, eyeing Bruce. "Come, relax, tell us all about your boring, depressing life."

"Screw you," Bruce says, but grabs a bottle of vodka and pours himself a shot. He walks over to the balcony and throws it back, seeing camera flashes through the two-story high windows. He cringes a little as warmth grows in his chest, wiping his mouth. "Jesus. What the hell is this?"

"Can't handle your liquor?" Ollie asks, raising an eyebrow. Bruce growls and holds the bottle up.

"This isn't vodka."

Tony shares a dramatic look with Ollie. "We forgot to tell him."

"About the.."

"You know!" Tony points at the bottle, and Bruce must have seriously underestimated their level of drunkenness, because suddenly they seem _wasted._ "That!"

"We _did_ forget to tell him, didn't we?" Ollie grins at his partner in crime. "That bottle is Tony's new science experiment. Prepare to have your mind... _blown_."

Bruce considers making himself throw up, but dismisses the idea as the pair burst out laughing. He feels dizzy as he turns to give them an earful, and has to sit down suddenly. His head spins. "Your irresponsible fucks-I have _work_ in the morning."

"Not anymore, Brucie," Tony says between chuckles, slapping Oliver's shoulder, "Not anymore."

* * *

_Triumvirate Billionaires' Meeting Takes Local Club By Storm: Wayne, Stark, and Queen Meet Up for Drinks and Conversation_

Lex looks up from his tablet, his face blank and composed. He presses a button on his desk.

"Mercy?"

A woman enters his office, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood. "Yes, sir?"

"Get me a car."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Details," Tony gasps, trying to breathe as Bruce's face begs another round of laughter. "I need _details,_ Oliver!"

"Well," Oliver says, tipping his beer glass to Bruce, "I heard from a certain Amazonian-"

"Traitor," Bruce mutters, ducking his head. "Is anything sacred?"

"-that our _friend_ over here has been having a lot of one on one sessions with our team leader."

"I am also a team leader, you realize," he says, but his tongue feels thick. Tony laughs again, spilling his shot all over the couch as he falls over.

"You and Superman?"

Bruce points at the billionaire, but his finger shakes a little. "For one, he's also a reporter. A _good_ one. And two: You're one to talk! How long have you been tapping Mr. Stars and Stripes?"

"Bruce!" Tony gasps, clutching his chest. "How dare you!"

"Oh, so it's funny if I'm finally having a _goddamn_ relationship," Bruce raises his voice, glaring at his friend, "But if I bring up your utterly _hopeless_ love affair with _goddamned_ Captain America, it's serious?"

Tony stands, getting in Bruce's face. "Take it back."

"Make me," Bruce hisses, standing as well. "Doesn't make it not true."

"Oliver, get in on this, would you?" Tony turns back to his seat, grabbing a bottle. "Give me those details about this _reporter_."

Oliver Queen chooses that moment to shut up, which Bruce finds particularly wise. Out of all of them, he's the most sober, which isn't saying much. "Sorry, Tony."

"Don't tell me you're not a gossip, Queen." Tony cracks a smile, turning back to Bruce like he'd forgotten they'd been fighting. "Get it? 'Gossip Queen'?"

Bruce tries to say something to that, but his head spins and suddenly he's sitting back down again, his head in his hands. A significant amount of time seems to have passed. He can't remember anything. He feels so _sad_ suddenly, like his world's been crushed, inside out.

"I just can't do it."

"It'll be okay. Shhhh. It's gonna be okay, Bruce." Someone's rubbing his back soothingly, and it feels nice. "I'm sure he, uh, likes you back."

"He's just so...smart, and beautiful, and so goddamned strong…" Bruce sighs, feeling it like an ache, "I'm not even talking about his muscles, Tony. He... _gets_ me. He puts up with my bullshit, Tony."

Someone snickers behind him, but he ignores it. "I feel the same way about Cap. You're not alone, bro."

Now _that_ makes Bruce look up. "You do?"

"Uh huh. Why do you think I'm getting drunk with your sorry ass on a Tuesday?"

"Oliver's parents died." Bruce says, glum. "That's why."

He looks up to see Oliver making finger guns at him, raising an eyebrow. "Thanks, man, gotta keep reminding myself. Almost forgot about that, you know."

"Shit, I'm sorry," Bruce says, struggling to his feet. He tries to sit next to Ollie, and manages it after two tries. "You know I think about my parents a lot too."

"We're aware," says Tony, rolling his eyes over his friend's head. "Hey Bruce, listen, why don't you-oh." he cuts off, paling. "Oh shit."

"What?" Bruce looks up, trying desperately to sober up. He spots a familiar head of red hair and freezes, revulsion pouring through him. "Oh no. _Oh no_."

Oliver Queen looks over his shoulder. "What? What is it?"

"Boys!" Lex Luthor crows, climbing the stairs to their VIP suite. "Well, look at what we have here! Is this a-a _social_ gathering?"

* * *

Oliver watches as Lex makes himself at home, inching away from the other billionaire as he reaches for a beer. Bruce and Tony are both staring at Lex like he's an apparition, and _man,_ Bruce must be _gone_ because his Bat-glare is at 100% and rising. He growls something under his breath and Tony shushes him, sending a desperate look to Oliver.

"So, Lex," Oliver says awkwardly, "What's a businessman like you doing in a place like this on a Tuesday?"

"I heard about your little, mhm, _get together,_ " Lex said, staring awkwardly at his beer bottle. Oliver realized distantly that the man was puzzling over how to open it. "Nice place. Don't really understand the appeal, though. Wayne looks like he's about to bite it."

"You wish," Bruce croaks, raising a defiant fist. "You want my company, you sanctimonious asshole."

Lex goes bright red, glaring at the billionaire. "Why, Brucie, I didn't know you knew what that word _meant_."

"You wanna read my lips?" Tony shushes Bruce, pulling his head into his lap, but to no avail. " _Majority shareholder,_ you morally-bankrupt, pale-ass motherfucker-"

"O-kay," Tony says, shoving a hand over Bruce's mouth. He looks at Ollie. "I'm calling Clark. Maybe our little experiment wasn't such a... _great_ idea."

"When are your ideas good, mhm?" Lex asks. Oliver feels the distinct urge to punch the smaller man and barely resists. Bruce sends another Bat-glare, obviously thinking the same thing. "SI stock is plummeting every day, isn't it?"

"This is why no one invites you to these things, Lexy," Tony bites back, grabbing Bruce's cellphone from his pants pocket. "Why don't you go back and play with daddy's toys? The big boys are having a meeting."

Lex crosses his feet on the table, defiant. "I don't think I will."

"Well, tough shit. This is a private meeting." Tony looks at Oliver, who desperately tries to sink back into the couch cushions. "Leave."

"I deserve to be here just as much as the rest of you!" Lex says, crossing his arms for good measure. "Just try throwing me out. Your pathetic excuse for stock won't sell for a _dime_."

"Like I haven't heard that before," Tony says, finishing whatever message he was typing out and tucking Bruce's phone back away. "On second thought, I'm letting Bruce speak again. Ollie?"

"Seconded," Ollie says, wondering if he can get away with calling Dinah right now. The odds were dropping. "But I also vote that we check his BAC before Clark takes him."

Bruce sits up as Tony releases his mouth, glaring at Lex, who has no right to look that pompous. He hasn't met the real Bruce Wayne yet, Ollie realizes. No man was that brave-except for Alfred. Maybe. "Lex."

"Brucie."

"Your father would never be proud of you," Bruce says softly, eyeing Lex like prey. Ollie backs up, because even drunk, Bruce is broadcasting all sorts of signals, "You want to know why?"

"Why?" Lex asks softly, tilting his head. Ollie can hear someone enter the club stairwell, speaking in low tones, and catches the words _Bruce Wayne_ and _upstairs_ but he can't tear his eyes away. " _Why,_ Wayne?"

"Because you are the worst piece of _human refuse_ who's ever even opened his mouth! Because you think you're _so_ smart but you're so _scared_ you lock yourself up at night and _cry_ about your father and all those little animals you tortured as a child, because _boo hoo,_ my childhood sucked, and for what?" Bruce is seething, and suddenly there's a taller man behind him in glasses, grabbing his shoulder. _Clark._

"A failed attempt at local office? Hilarious." And fuck, if Bruce isn't just nailing them on the head. Ollie leans back and enjoys the show. "Your stock is shit. You sold your soul to seventeen million different American military contractors, and, to sum it all fucking up," Bruce took a deep breath, watching Lex's reddening face. "You're beginning to go bald. You're insecure about it, and I have _pictures_ of you at _Aveda_ crying so _don't you fuck with me again_!"

Clark pulls away Bruce before the man can scream anymore, shooting him a look that's caught between horror and pride. "Alright, babe, time to go home."

Lex makes a noise that's not quite a gasp, shoves Clark out of the way, and stumbles down the stairs. Ollie looks at Tony, who's rolling on the couch, laughing so hard he's turning red.

"So…" Clark says in the intervening silence, Bruce finally passed out in his arms. "Who gave Bruce alcohol?"

Ollie points at Tony, whose laughter sends him off the couch and onto the floor with a thump. "He did."

"Is everything okay?"

He and Clark turn to find no one other than Captain America standing by the door, looking concerned. Ollie feels something akin to relief and leans back in his sofa. "Thank God."

"I'm taking Bruce home," Clark says respectfully, nodding his head at the other man. "I'm guessing you're here for Tony?"

Ollie nearly spits out his beer as the two men look at each other, wearing identical expressions of mild, patriotic concern. Ollie would laugh if he thought he could.

"Yes," Steve Rogers says eventually, shifting on his feet. "I think I am."

Clark nods again, and hefts Bruce in his arms. "I'm just going to...take him back to the Manor."

"No funny business," Ollie warns him, but he can't keep the smirk off his face. "We gave him a-shit, Tony, how much alcohol did we give him?"

"Did you _see_ that?" Tony yells, finally getting his breath back. "Did you see Lex's face-Oh my god. Please put that video on my _tombstone,_ oh my fucking _god-_ "

Steve turns pink. "Tony, language."

"Fuck you."

The captain sighs and grabs Tony's shoulder, getting an armful of short, angry italian before Ollie can warn him. They eye each other, and Ollie is over that pretty quickly.

He directs his focus at Clark instead, letting them have their PDA moment. Bruce is still slumped in his arms. "Do me a favor and make him sleep on his side, okay?"

Clark raises an eyebrow. "Should I be concerned?"

"Only if he can't stop throwing up," Tony points out against Steve's chest, muffled. "In that case, call me. Or don't. He'll probably live."

* * *

The infamous party of 2011 is never spoken of, but takes on a legendary status among the Justice League and the Avengers respectively. Bruce swears off alcohol, heaving over the toilet the next morning, but a boxer-clad Clark in his bathroom more than makes up for it.

Steve and Tony have a discussion about bullying and alcoholism, which he pretends to listen to while googling pictures of Lex Luthor's growing bald spot.

Oliver sleeps off his hangover, waking up to a text from his broker saying their stock is soaring. He checks Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries for kicks, and makes a note to attend the next meeting, alcoholic meltdowns be damned.

* * *

**2012**

"Just to be clear," Bruce says to him, almost a year later, "There will be no alcohol involved this time,"

"That was Tony's idea-"

"-and Lex Luthor will _not_ be invited," Bruce finishes, fixing him with a _look_. "In fact, he won't even _know_ this meeting's even happening, that's how not-invited he is."

"Alright."

"Not that I care."

Oliver looks him over, still wearing the Batman suit, sans the cowl, and rolls his eyes. "You're not fooling me, Wayne."

"Excuse me?"

Spitting in Batman's face is unheard of, but so is smiling. Oliver manages both. "See you at seven, Batman You remembered your swimsuit, right?"

A low growl followed him down the hall. "My _what_?"

* * *

"What's the point of this group?" Tony muses aloud as they circled up on the deck, staring up at the stars. "Don't say getting shitfaced together, because it'll hurt my delicate little feelings."

Bruce looks at his friend, hair blowing in the soft wind, and hums to himself. He has a beer in one hand, content to sip slowly. Oliver is, strangely, doing the same.

It's January 13th. His turn again. Tony's ship slides through the water silently, splitting the waves as they approach morning, far off in the distance. It's utterly silent. Peaceful, even.

"It's…" Oliver breaks off, looking at Tony. "I'm sorry, man, it's basically getting shitfaced."

"Don't forget gossiping," Bruce adds helpfully, pointing his beer at Tony. "You seemed to like that part a lot, if I recall correctly."

"Go ahead and just hand me your balls on the way out, boys," Tony gripes, but the lines around his eyes go smooth, and relaxes against the edge of the stern. "Serves us right, I guess."

"What does?" Bruce asks, curious.

"This," Tony says eloquently, gesturing at the boat. "We're the saddest fucking orphans I've ever known, and our combined net worth is more than most countries combined."

"What's your point?" Oliver asks, sipping from his beer. "We're rich, so what?"

"I'm saying," Tony squints, "All the money in the world, and all I can think about it Steve right now."

"Cut it with the mushy stuff, Stark!"

Bruce grins as Oliver gets into a small slap fight with Tony, thinking about his own boyfriend's arms, how they would feel wrapped around him. He sighs, sure Clark's blue eyes are searching out his from thousands of miles away. Searching out his voice, or the steady thrum of his heartbeat amongst the waves.

"Get Wayne," Oliver says to Tony, who he has in a headlock. "He's looking sentimental."

"We can't have that," Tony agrees, and they look at each other. "Now!"

Bruce rolls his eyes as they pounce at him, ducking a well-aimed hit from Green Arrow (and not a great one from Iron Man) sending Tony precariously close to the edge of the yacht. He lets out a laugh, surprised at the sensation in his chest. _Happiness? Hope?_ Who knew.

"Is that all you've got?"

_They're going to be fine_ , Bruce thinks as Oliver and Tony powwow for a quick battle plan, their heads nodding as sunrise touches the horizon. They're 100% invested in taking him down, which just makes it more adorable. _They're going to be just fine._

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment, and let me know what you thought!
> 
> Now taking prompts on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/frownyalfred)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Feel Good Inc. Podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9513404) by [musicalgirl4474](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474)




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